To Love
by Momosportif
Summary: Slightly pre-series ShanksBen. All goes according to Shanks' plan when Makino overhears he and Beckman's loaded conversation - much to Ben's chagrin. But Makino is not the only one Shanks is trying to fool. All lovely character's are Oda's! Enjoy!


**a/n**: What do I do with female characters who provide a potential threat to my slash pairings? I make them fangirls too, of course.

:}

Enjoy!

* * *

"Mmm..."

It took all of Makino's will power to repress the small squeak of surprise that fought to escape in response to the sudden sound. She could have sworn she was alone. Regaining some of her composure as she quickly reasoned through how easy it would have been for someone to get in without her noticing while she'd been organizing things under the counter or running out back for some water or any number of things, the proprietress laid the rag she'd been using to clean the counter aside and began to round the bar, a hesitant hail making its way to her mouth.

"Beckman!"

"Captain..."

The words ready to leave her lips retreated for fear of being crushed as Makino's mouth clenched shut in further shock. If the names used had not been enough of a give away, the voices were all too familiar. The tones, on the other hand, were completely foreign.

_What is Captain Shanks doing here so late?_

"Beckman, stop! We really shouldn't... The crew will be wondering-"

"Captain."

"Oh, Beckman."

Makino clamped a hand over her mouth and, summoning all her courage, took a few cautious steps out form the safety of the bar in order to sneak a glance into the far, back corner so she could confirm with her own eyes what her mind was already screaming in answer to her silent inquiry of seconds before.

"Hmm."

"I suppose a few more minutes wouldn't hurt..."

"No..."

Fine brows firmly set in an intense glare of embarrassment, Makino, hand still solidly in place over her mouth, stopped three paces from the bar and leaned out as far as she dared.

"Mmm-oh! _Beckman!_ You shouldn't tease me like that!"

She clutched her apron with her free hand as if wringing it tightly enough would somehow prevent her from falling over.

"Really, Beckman, you're just being outright cruel now."

The corner of the table at last came into view. Just a bit further...

"Khm."

"God, that feels good, Beckman..."

"Hm."

"You really are the sweetest-"

The end of the captain's sentence was lost to Makino as all her senses shut down at the extremely brief glimpse of none other than Ben Beckman's familiar back, split as ever by his singular ponytail, and, only barely visible over one massive shoulder, what could only be Captain Shanks' straw hat atop a mess of fiery hair.

Following some deep instinct, the young proprietress fled back to her ultimate place of safety - behind the bar - hitting the ground as soon as she reached the corner and crawling the rest of the way, all attempts to maintain a sense of discretion wholly abandoned until her position was secured. Once well behind the counter, Makino shifted to her rear and hugged her knees to her chest, back to the comfortingly solid wood. With a breathy sigh, she lifted her dark eyes to the ceiling and tried to quiet the pounding of her heart enough to make sense of what had been her peaceful, if banal, quiet evening only minutes ago.

"I think that's enough, Captain..."

"You really are just positively wretched to me, you know that, Ben?"

"Hm."

"For the life of me I can't figure out how you get away with it... I am the captain, after all."

A sharp grunt was the only response the first mate offered and was answered with a soft chuckle.

It was strange, Makino thought in fleeting moment of clarity, but Beckmen sounded just about as uneasy as she felt. This train of thought was swiftly derailed, however, as what had only been a suggestion of Shanks' deep stores of mirth was further tapped and evolved into a full out laugh.

Even under the current dire circumstances, the sound forced a smile to surface on Makino's tense features. A small sigh relaxed the muscles in her neck and left her staring thoughtfully at the back wall.

Well, Captain Shanks couldn't really be blamed, nor, as tempting as it was, could Ben Beckman. In fact, though it could simply be the late hour or the long day leading up to it, the concept of Shanks and his first mate maintaining a romantic relationship in some capacity actually made some sort of sense. Afterall, he had already spent more time with Beckman than he had or would with all the women he knew combined simply because of the nature of his lifestyle, nevermind that a significant portion of that time had been spent in life-threatening situations, which inevitably brought them closer together (and not just figuratively).

In any case, she could definitely sympathize with Beckman as far as being charmed by the young captain of the Red-Haired Pirates. She'd often wondered if he had a lover in some far away village or even a wife waiting for him to come home, and, if not, what were the chances of it being her?

Makino rested her chin between her knees, playing a finger over the curving wood patterns. It had always been slightly melancholic, at times even depressing, to think about Captain Shanks, and to realize that the answer to her deeply considered and long-since frustrating puzzle had been staring her in the face the whole time was rather winding. The more Makino dwelled on this epiphany, however, the more she recognized the magnitude of the emotional weight being lifted from her.

The mystery of Shanks, at least where his heart was concerned, was now solved, if in a somewhat abrupt manner, and though there certainly was no rival in regard ot his gentle and jovial character, there were absolutely other fish in the sea, as it were, and nothing could change the fact that he was and always would be an invaluable friend. She perked up markedly at these thoughts, face lifting once more to the ceiling with a small smile. And even though a part of her would probably never be able to forgive them for failing to resist something beyond a platonic relationship, an overwhelming majority of her had to admit that the idea of silent and grim Ben Beckman looking after his zealous and fun-loving captain or the adventurous and indefatigable Shanks calming down enough to administer affections to his first mate was unquestionably adorable.

With a stout inhale, Makino brought herself to her feet, filled with the unshakable resolve to let them know they had her full support. As she crept purposefully to the back door, she cast herself back into the ebb and flow of the conversation she had tuned out during her brief meditations.

"Alright, really, Beckman, don't you think it's about time to get back?"

"If we don't hurry it should be just right."

Makino left the back door slightly ajar and took the stairs to her room above with a smile still firmly fixed upon her features and to the sound of her favorite laughter.

Shanks quieted as soon as they heard footsteps overhead and immediately stood from his seat opposite Beckman's to confirm that their voyeur had vanished. Beckman hid his face behind one large hand, allowing an agitated cloud of smoke to escape as he tapped his cigarette in exasperation.

"'Hm'? 'Hm'? Was that the best you could do, Beckman?"

The addressed party let his hand fall back to the table top, fixing the semi-indignant Shanks with his hardest stare.

"Really, Beckman," the captain flopped down in his seat with a huff, "I should hope you'd have a little more to say if someone as delightful as meself were making passes at you."

The joke sparkled in his eyes even before he broke off his imploring facade to grin. Beckman did not move.

At last Shanks gave up trying to coax a response from his towering crewmate through humor and turned in profile again, sobering considerably.

"Alright then... what's this look for?"

The gunsman continued to keep the captain pinned with his glare despite his attempt to cancel its effects by breaking eye contact.

"When you asked me to help you communicate to Makino that you weren't interested, this is not what I had in mind."

Beckman took a conclusionary drag of his cigarette that somehow felt just as condemning as the short speech to the restless Shanks. He sighed in a way that let Beckman know he'd been expecting a reaction like this and crossed his arms in a sign for Beckman to continue.

"I would like to think, Captain, that someone like yourself could come up with a better way to put a woman off than some," one of the dormant giants momentarily awoke, raising itself from the smooth surface of the table to wave through the jumble of words until Beckman found the right ones, "grand deception."

He exhaled heavily. But even through the smoke, he could tell that his last statement had hit the right nerve: there was something else at play in his captain's uncharacteristically backhanded and indirect methods.

The pensive first mate took an exceptionally slow drag in preparation for Shanks' next move. The captain shook his head after a moment's silence, clearing his dark expression with incredible ease and replacing it with a smile of a heavier nature than Beckman was used to seeing.

He stood, adjusting his hat and returned his crew mate's stare with an off-putting intensity before pronouncing with a veneer of carelessness that Beckman found surprisingly transparent, "I wouldn't call it a 'grand deception' so much as I'd call it a desperate plea."

In the time that it took for the taller man to extract meaning from this somewhat cryptic announcement, Shanks had already made it to the end of the next table; for him to register the implications, the far side of the bar; and for his next breath of smoke to lose all order and disintegrate into a shocked drop of the jaw, three paces from the door.

At last, Beckman's wits caught up with him and brought his lips together in a slow smile.

"Hm."

Shanks paused in pushing open one panel of the swinging front door.

"What's the hurry, Captain? I think the crew can wait a while more."

The door fell back into place with a creak that went unheard, dwarfed by the sound of Shanks' favorite laughter.

* * *

The next morning found Makino behind the counter early, humming haphazardly in anticipation. It had cost more than half of a good night's rest, but she strongly felt that, given the product of her p.m. postulations, it had been well worth the price.

Several hours passed without much of consequence: regulars who liked to avoid the pirate-rush at around two in the afternoon, the occasional passer-by, and the one or two rough customers from further inland trying to feel out the village. At long last the pleasant ruckus of the first wave of the Red-Haired crew interrupted the quiet of the lunchtime-stragglers and caused Makino to turn from the table she was wiping down with barely contained excitement.

It was a small group - seven or eight - but even before they had crossed the threashold, she could spot Ben Beckman at the rear, a full head taller than everyone before him, smoking and looking in every way his usual self. It did not take extensive scrutiny to see that Shanks was not among these forerunners as they filed in and made their way to the bar, some standing, others, including the first mate, claiming a stool.

Though, in fact, there was absolutely nothing extraordinary about Beckman's behavior, Makino could not help but decide, as she rounded the corner to serve her most reliable customers, that he looked inordinarily distracted. Perhaps, she thought, feeling a slight heat creeping up behind her ears, his mind was also on the absent captain.

If he noticed the proprietress was watching him like a hawk, the long-haired man did not let on and simply sat in silence in his usual spot at the end of the bar, holding up a hand in polite refusal of drink when offered and otherwise merely contemplating the emty space before him.

Once everyone was served and most had gravitated away to tables, Makino prepared to go in for the kill, serruptitiously making her way down the bar towards the seemingly unaware fist mate.

"Beckman, I-"

He looked up questioningly at the sound of his name, but Makino was cut off by the arrival of the bulk of the boisterous crew. With a small frown of defeat, she glanced at the door and then held up a finger to express that she'd finish her statement momentarily. Beckman answered with a nod and resumed studying the back wall while Makino rushed to the service of the small mob of men.

When the last had been given his pint of ale and a few friendly words, she leaned out over the counter, slightly perplexed, scanning for the strawhat amid the sea of people. Search fruitless, she called after the spindly man she knew to be the crew's marksman.

"Yasopp! Where's the captain?" Both the slight man and his enormous companion turned at the hail, looked at each other, then out as Makino just had, before finally facing her inquisitive stare once more to answer.

"I can't say for sure, Makino," Yasopp replied, stroking his chin in thought. "He was just with us back on the ship..."

"He'll be here without a doubt though," added Lucky Roux with comforting certainty. "The captain would never pass up a night of drinking!"

With that the duo clinked glasses and gave a hearty cheers, echoed by the entire crew -

"To the captain!"

"To Makino!"

"To drinking!"

"To drinking!"

- before becoming swallowed by the crowd. Still unsatisfied, Makino turned to Beckman who shrugged without looking at her. Still scouring the room for a flash of dusty gold and bright red, she moved down the bar for a second time.

Beckman carefully exhaled, watching her out of the corner of his eye.

"Sorry about that, Beckman," she tore her eyes from the bustling innards of the tavern and fixed him with a kind and slightly apologetic smile. "What I was trying to tell you earlier was, well..."

Beckman felt his stomach plummet a few feet as she averted her eyes in frank embarrassment. He had a pretty good idea what she was trying to tell him.

"It's kind of awkward, actually, but I would feel dishonest if I kept it to myself."

It was Beckman's turn to shift his gaze elsewhere as she continued steadily and at a pace he found infinitely too rapid.

"You see, last night, I happened to-"

"Excuse me for interrupting, Makino, but could you spare a bit of ale or have me lads already drunk it all?"

"Shanks!"

"Hmm..."

Makino's face lit up at the sight of the friendly, open face that had suddenly appeared and she lit off, after a meaningful look at Beckman, to acquire the quested after alcohol. Beckman, for his part, took the opportunity to hide behind his cigarette-free hand, unsure whether he should be thrilled at his timely escape or afraid of worse to come.

Makino exchanged the frothy mug for a heartfelt thanks and watched the red-haired pirate fondly as he stook a hefty first sip.

"Ah!" Shanks ran a wrist across his mouth with a sigh of satisfaction. "I really think this must be the best grog in all four blues, don't you agree, Beckman?"

"Hm."

The first mate grunted in response as Shanks, nonplussed, took another deep swig before asking, "Tell me, though, Makino: what's me tab up to now? I know we've still got a bit of the evening ahead of us, but I'd like to get a rough estimate now so I can tell the lads if they need to slow down."

Makino inhaled, holding in all her elation with the cached breath. He could not have set it up more perfectly.

"Tonight it's on the house, Captain," she went on, cutting off the impending exclamation that threatened to follow Shank's laugh of surprise. "Think of it as a," she stole a glance at Beckman where he remained stubbornly concealed by a mighty palm and effectively deepened Shanks' confusion, "belated congratulations, if you will."

She beamed, looking from one to the other until the stricken captain caught on and, realization sinking in, turned to look at his first mate. Even the massive proportions of Beckman's hand couldn't hide the grin stretched across his face.

Shanks found this mirth at his expense rather peeving.

Makino, oblivious to this subtle exchange, leaned towards the pair and proposed a drink-less toast, substituting a clash of glasses with a deliberate nod.

"To love!"

"To love!" Seconded the extremely tickled baritone of Ben Beckman as he took his captain's cup from his limp grasp and backed the cheers with an impressive swig.

Clearly delighted, Makino made her leave of the couple as a few of the crewmen wandered up to the other end of the counter for refills. Beckman polished off his drink with a satisfied drag of his cigarette. He'd been mildly miffed that Shanks' plan had gone off without a single snag, but this recompense was better than anything he could have dreamed up.

Ever the quick to recover, Shanks heaved a deep sigh and raised his pint.

"Well, I'd have to be dead or out of me right mind to say no to free alcohol..."

Beckman snorted and looked over his shoulder for an evaluating glance before deeming it safe to gently place a hand on his captain's knee. Somewhere between lifting the mug to his mouth, drinking the remaining liquid, and setting the empty cup down, Shanks muttered something to the effect of, "It'd be a hell of a lot less embarrassing if it wasn't true..."

The captain's semi-feigned pouting was too irresistable even for Beckman to not take the risk. He leaned over and pressed his nose against his skulking captain's temple, pushing the straw hat to a jaunty angle.

"Aye. But I think it's better this way." He replaced his nose with the most discreet but deliberate of kisses before sitting up straight again and consciously checking his desire to look over his shoulder to ensure no one had noticed.

He would have to develop a habit of not caring what was seen or unseen at the rate his captain was going.

Shanks at last gave in and pushed aside his pout with a devilish grin, sliding a hand from the counter to rest it atop his first mate's.

"I couldn't agree more, Beckie! It's positively grand and indescribably relieving to know now that you're good for a lot more than 'hm's!"

* * *

On a random side note to anyone familiar with the video game series Harvest Moon, doesn't Makino remind you of Celia? O.o

A thousand thank yous for reading!

-bows-

-S


End file.
